


Caein==> Start SBURB.

by terminalDiscord



Series: Realitystuck [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, SBURB installation, first fic, no canon characters from hs in this bro, teaser fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-03-30 08:50:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3930547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terminalDiscord/pseuds/terminalDiscord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Cain Gregory and you are undeniably excited.</p>
<p>Homestuck is your current fandom, and you love everything about it. (Save for the deaths and demise.)</p>
<p>Complicated story lines, Ecto-biology, and Time Shenanigans do tend to get you confused, but that didn't stop you from loving Homestuck.<br/>Characters relatable and quirky, bonds and relationships not always healthy, but some of them you ship anyway.</p>
<p>But out of everything that is from your fandom, you've always wanted SBURB to be real (You can't be the only one, right?), and being able to meet your internet friends so you guys can play the game together.  </p>
<p>And now,<br/>You have the game in your hands.<br/>Of course It can't be the real one, that would be impossible.<br/>It's just a prank, you know it to be true.</p>
<p>But for curiosities sake,<br/>You install it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ==> Receive box from some douche.

You've never believed in miracles such as God or fantasy.

Sure, it was fun to speculate and wonder about it. Some people loved 'God' so much that they commit and lecture about it, some even trying to convert other people to it. 

Fantasy was a world or design rich in imagination, creativity, and beauty. Meant to inspire or give hope to weak minds that believe such things like 'Magic' to exist.

But to you?  
Such things can't be real. It was a demand that no one can fulfill.

God never existed to you. Religion and Christianity were fun to think about, but in the end, it was never really your sort of thing. Praying to an entity that no one knows for sure exists? Not for you. 

And fantasy? Out of the question.  
You love reading books about fantasy, ironically enough. When you tell your friends about your solid disbelief in a concept of an imaginative world, yet enjoy reading novels about said world, they almost always call you a hypocrite. Others would just look at you and say: 'That doesn't make any sense' that eventually leads to an hour long lecture about your hypocrisy.

You're in your room pondering about various dogs when suddenly the doorbell rings. 

You brush off any non-existent dirt from your hoodie and jeans from which you haven't changed from yet, coming home from grocery shopping in a downpour of rain would've told you otherwise, but you're too lazy to bother with things like this. If you got a cold, then fuck it. You've got a cold and you're going to be sick. Big deal.

You make your way down the corridor that leads to your front door, fixing yourself up on the way there. Who knows? Maybe there's a hot chick on the other side of the yeah that's not happening. A guy can dream, right? The knocking grows increasingly loud, irritating you. Whoever was knocking better be someone important, you've got YouTube Videos to watch.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm comin'. Hold your horses." You shout. This seems to have no effect as the knocking grows louder. You click your teeth. 

Better not be those stuck-up kids, Halloween was a week ago. If anyone's asking for candy, you'll tell them to suck a dick.

Fuck the parents, you're NOT in the mood to let some kids ruin your iPhone pass code with a shit load of fails and waiting for it's ass to allow you back in.

"Dude, shut up! I said I'm coming!" You repeat. Casual walking speeding up. The knocking just grew louder. Augh.

With a few disgruntled profanities muttered under your breath, you finally reach the door. 

What idiot designed the corridor so LONG? No wonder the girls took a shit lot of time getting ready, it's not the choice of clothes, it's the fucking corridor some nitwit decided to add in. 

Just to be a douche.  
You now have a firm accusation that his dick was so small, he decided to make the corridor longer than the bridge of London and Pinocchio's nose (after he lied about over 9,000 times about not stealing from the cookie jar.) combined to emphasize how long he wanted it.

And how he puts his pathetic feelings of inadequacy on others because he can't fight for shit to show those 'meanies who make fun of my awesome genitals' who's right.

What a loser.

You fumble with the lock for a few seconds, eventually getting them to undo and you snap open the door. 

"Fucking anus," you mutter and hug your arms. Gotta change into some new clothes once you're done. Despite the sudden frost enveloping your body, you are, in fact, ready to spew more words than every lecturer and president would hope to achieve. Jesus would be proud of you. "What the fuck do you want, if I committed a crime then it wasn't-" You pause. There was no one there.

You prepare yourself to go into a complete tantrum about spoiled kids and how they should be disintegrated from this world.

Until you look down.

There was a box, delivered to you.

The fuck?


	2. ==> Gaze at box like it's going to pop up and stab you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fuck? You're not scared of some box. You'd crush that shit like a bug, gazing ain't gonna do anything, so might as well take it in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that actual address aint mine, dunno what it looks like so bluh.

What the fuck is a box doing here? You're pretty sure you didn't order anything from WhatPumpkin, whoever sent this must've gotten the wrong address. Anyone with as much of a working brain know you hated to be bothered by unimportant things. 

Last time someone visited your house just to say fucking 'Hi', they got a few words of polite conversation, ten seconds of warning, an insult which may or may not have made them cry, an awkward apology, then a beeline back to whatever kennel they lived in.

Jesus fuck, social interaction is _not_ how you roll, either stuttering from lack of vocabulary, or a shit ton of swear words come from this mouth. Too many boys thought you were trying too hard to be 'cool', while too many girls get offended and scold you for being a child. Fuck them, if they can't stand the swear words, then they can't handle what I have to offer.

That wasn't a figure of speech. You were into some pretty dark stuff, like Heinoustuck.  
A loud sigh escapes from you, goddamn thing had to be discontinued. The designs were pretty cool, and you get to enjoy whatever the 'Beta kids' were doing without any spoilers. Spoilers ruined everything for you. No emotional attachments, no surprises, nothing.

Anyway, back to the subject. Box must've gotten dropped off at the wrong house, maybe the dumbass who dropped this off was still here?  
You take a brief scan of your surroundings. 

Your front porch is empty, save for the barbecue grill and a coffee table off to the side. No one's vandalized that, thank fuck. The steps were spotless, clean ninja dude's been knocking on the door of the dog, a small part of you wishes they left one of their shurikens behind, so you can kill all these idiots with no trace of blood on the blades. No slipper either, so no half assed Cinderella cosplay kids knocking on your door. 

Thank god. You were worried that the kids had finally lost their sense of 'Oh man, Halloween is over' ability. Nearly lost faith in them. Phew.

The lawn was untouched, much to your surprise. Same with those lame ass gnomes which you put out for shits and giggles. Clean ninja dude did not fuck around with other people's stuff, and you can respect that. Hell, you might even like them for their stealthy clean badassery. 

And that's not a quote which everyone has a privilege of hearing. Because no one was fucking decent enough to clean your shit.

The grass is still neat, no toilet paper scoured the lawn. Either there was no party with drunk teens your age, knocking on your door calling you an 'Uptight cranky old man stuck in a teens body'. Or clean ninja dude removed it. If it was the latter, then you'll _definitely_ consider them (at the very least) as an acquaintance. 

Mailbox was empty, you don't need to go over there to check. You could see if there was mail present from here. 

So yeah, no trace of vandalism. For once.

You look down on the box once more, pick it up, and experimentally shake it. No time bomb, and the label for fragile shit would've been posted on the surface. Something did shuffle around in there, so it wasn't some lame prank devised by those arrogant toddlers.

Curious, you snag a look at the bottom of the box. There was no return address. Weird. There was a message though.

'984 Madison Court, Crofton, MD 21114  
For Cain Gregory, the human Karkat who actually liked Homestuck.  
Install it, if you dare.  
-Anon'

Who the hell used 'Anon' in their letters? 

You almost laugh at the nickname. 'Human Karkat'? step up your game, bro. Originality is appreciated. You actually like Red, along with the monochrome colors. Hell, red was one of your favorite colors. Reminds you of blood.

You frown at the last part. 'Install it'? Now you're curious about the contents.

Again, you glance around. Nope, still no ninja themed cleaning agents to be seen. You decide to head back inside, wouldn't want to keep that box waiting.

A gust of wind was sent your way, like a retarded stork that dropped an even more retarded child on your face. Which was to say, you nearly screamed and punch the metaphorical stork in its Pinocchio beak. Which roughly translates to:

"Fucking hell! You moronic piece of **shi-** " you cut off the swear before someone- fuck. Thy sailor lips have reached the ears of a boy across the road, better apologize before- yep, nope, he rushed back inside. Goddammit.

Fucker's gonna tell his parents for sure. Gotta get back inside before they see the personification of anger spewing curses directed at every 'divine' deity to express how much you hate them for putting you in this situation.

Closing the door, you sing Hallelujah aloud for all the winged shitheads up in heaven because _fuck yes that heat is a gift from god._

Except you don't sing it aloud, because that would make you look like an idiot. 

That whole train of thought immediately proved itself to be useless. Great job train! You get to go to the Useless Train Olympics, where you get to race with other useless trains from that stupid ASDF movie meme! We'll see whose the fastest- Nooooope, hold it right there brain, this is my last stop on the jackass train adventures. 

Now self decidedly smarter, you scamper down the long ass corridor and rip open the door to your room. 

Various bull skulls sit on every wall shelf that you have. Video game posters consisting of the Binding of Isaac, Homestuck, and various other fandoms line the walls of your room. As well as a few other T.V shows like Steven Universe, Invader Zim, and a few other minor hobbies which you decide to waste your precious seconds on.

You climb up the bunk bed (which unfortunately only has a top bunk) and plant your ass on the chess themed blankets. Despite the boxes' plain green look, you feel excited to rip it open to discover its contents. Who knows? Maybe there's a few more posters for you to hang up.

You make a move to open the sealed box before you stop yourself. 

It was sealed. A groan escapes from you. Of course.

Also, you're wet from natures' way of saying 'fuck you' and had briefly forgotten how much you're shivering due to the excitement.

Clothes first. Maybe a few snacks from the fridge, a utility knife to cut open the seal. _Then_ the box.

Scampering down the ladder, you go over to your dresser and start pulling out a pair of black sweatpants and a shirt. Nothing too fancy for this occasion. You pull off your present, soaked through shirt and grimace when you look at your form.

You really need to work out. You weren't stringy, or overweight, but a few sit ups should work out for you. Throw in some push ups and hey, you've been productive today! Time to eat that 3 week old cake. 

But seriously, your rectangle-ish body could use a bit of work.

So could your stomach, because that piece of shit was rumbling like an earthquake mixed in with the sound of screaming gophers.

Strolling into your small kitchen, you ignore the stove in favor for the fridge. You open it.

And you're now faced with a decision that's just as hard as choosing your starter Pokemon.

There really wasn't much to choose from, chips aren't in your appetite today (they weren't even in your damned fridge to begin with.), and you mentally curse yourself as you've forgotten the damn milk. Milk, malk, that video was hilarious. Especially when they put the cat in the oven. Cooking felt like a chore right now, and you sure as hell won't eat any vegetables today.

Fff. You're wasting time again. An apple sounds pretty boring right now, but you take it nonetheless. Might as well be a little healthy. Biting into the apple, you noted that it's actually fresh. No rots or anything, and hey, it tasted sweet. Your hands are gonna get sticky but, eh, whatever. Can't be bummed to wash it.

Aight, now for the hard part. Where the fuck did you put that knife.

You look in the cupboards-

Why are you doing this. 

Disregarding that, you make your way around the house to find the back door, leading to your backyard (Was this even normal? Having two yards? It probably is, but you find it the slightest bit weird), which contained your shitty excuse for a shed.

Well, it is a shed. A wooden one at that. It wasn't like you created a shelter made out of branches and called it a fucking shed. It was just falling and crumbling in some places. When was the last time you used this?

Before you can open the door, you catch a whiff of what it smelled like and- _oh my fuck._

It's like someone died in there, trying to eat the last of the rotten, vomit covered Dunkin Donuts and failed spectacularly because that cocaine addicted 'Santa' came in like a wrecking ball and snagged them for his disabled, moronic wife.

Fuck that, you're not going through the doors of hell to get a fucking _knife._

Backtracking, you make your way to the kitchen and pull out a steak knife from the stand. Every chef on earth and beyond will have your head for this, stapled and hanging on the wall in their 'Hall of idiots', your one with a nameplate that said 'Cain Gregory, age 16 (sucked on batteries when he was younger). Tried to open a sealed box with a steak knife. Moses descended from heaven to effectively bitch slap him in the face along as shooting him in the guts with a laser gun...' and so on.

Fucking finally you got all your shit sorted. Time to crawl out the metaphorical hall and open the mystery box. Making your way back to your bedroom, you climb up your one man bunk bed (sob sob, no sleepovers for Cain) and proceed to open the box with the knife, silently hoping that Moses wouldn't do the previously thought idea. 

Would he actually do that? Descending from his throne of animals just to give you a beating, he wouldn't even know _how_ to operate a laser gun. Mostly because that he was from an earlier generation, and the other was because laser guns didn't even fucking exist. 

Doubt. 

Does it? Was there some sort of news line that might've said "Mad scientist invents a laser gun! Science fiction fans proceed to cry over this newly found information!" that you've missed? Did any of your friends know about- oh hey the box is open. Only took you a single train of thought time span to open this.

You flip back the lids of the box, and honestly, you weren't expecting this.

Holding up what appears to be a document, you instantly notice the note attached on the surface. Pulling it off, you then proceed to read it. Out loud. Just to be a cliche bastard.

"To Cain Gregory, that's me. Or the human Karkat," you snort. "you probably didn't expect this to show up, did you? Nope, thanks for the mail. I always knew that you were a Homestuck fan, wow, creepy much? Due to your most popular, and obviously favorite board from your Pinterest account. Also the description on your profile. Never mind, sorry about that Anon. I got this in my mail, it was originally mailed to me at first, but I decided that you'd like this more. From Anon." 

What. "What?" you repeated. What could possibly be mailed to you, made from choi-

Peering into the contents of the document, you pull the contents out and hold the them up with your right arm near the wall light.

There were 2 disc cases with a black background, with the Homestuck logos on them. Along with the words 'SBURB' on both. One said 'Client', and the other one: 'Server'.

Another sticky note was found on the server disc case. You pull it off.

"Hope you're a nice enough person as to not wreck your client's house. Please be a good Server." you read it aloud. And promptly drop your free arm onto the bed.

What in the actual fuck.

**Author's Note:**

> Before you say anything, 'Caein' is my pinterest name. 'caein Gregoire' to be exact. Using the name 'Cain' throws me off a bit. I just hope to warm up to it.  
> Anyways! This is my first fic, and a teaser to a new series which I hope to be doing. Constructive criticism is appreciated.  
> Me and my friends assembled a HS session known as: 'Realitystuck' in OP or commonly known as: The Overseer Project. It's still in it's early stages but still fun to play.


End file.
